


Of Elrond, Sorrow And Joy Both

by elrondhalfelven



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt, Loss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-21 02:53:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30015015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrondhalfelven/pseuds/elrondhalfelven
Summary: A collection of my shortest Elrond tales which simply are not long enough to be posted individually.
Kudos: 4





	1. Consequences

_“Eldar. My will is to be counted amongst the Eldar, my Lord.”_

_“This is a choice that you can never forsake.”_

_“I understand.”_

Elrond had not understood. He had gathered willowy beams of dampened wood, billowed to shore by tumultuous waves upon the longshore drift so that they could embellish the masts of ships not yet built; he would kneel upon his hands and knees so that his tunic was immersed beneath the shallow waters, bare legs and ankles scraping against the jarring rock until he was decorated by wispy scars of pale red.

He had stood upon the cliff face, dressed in an ivory tunic and a faded grey shawl adorned with pearls and sunlight; wheat yellow haloing his head and entwining with his shadowy hair so that the fluttering ends glimmered auburn as they swayed with the morning breeze. He had raised his slender hand, light catching against his golden ring of twining metal, in a gesture of farewell to his brother and the other sailors. All of this he had done with a twinge of sadness far overshadowed by his joviality, but he had not understood.

Not until the day was fading and the ships had disappeared over the horizon, not until the light retreated from his form and left him naught but the lingering shadows of night; his evening eyes fading into a duller, somnolent grey. 

Then he understood. The breeze turned treacherous; lashing his long ebony locks against his pale face and tugging at his shawl. In that moment it was just him, merely Elrond and no one else to withstand the bitter chill of the shores despite the summery skies. Then he understood the consequences of forever _._


	2. Besiege

Elrond flicked the porcelain candle holder with his forefinger and thumb, adorning the wall with a twirling myriad of pale yellow light; stars glimmering amongst the darkness. He watched as the wispy glow came to rest upon the various scrolls which lay before him, bathing the paper with warm fire even as the moonlight rested upon his ivory hands. From without the cobbled study, hail descended the skies upon lashing winds; whipping against the stained-glass windows so forcefully that more than once he had struggled to pull the window closed after they were wrenched open by the unquenchable storm. The howling of hunting dogs entwined with the shrieking of the night.

Forsaking his work, Elrond rose from the mahogany desk chair and caressed his ebony hair into a loose plait, held together by a leathery strand which had been tied upon his wrist. The clicking of his boot heels reverberated against the varnished stone as he strode briskly through the stronghold’s corridors, ascending the rickety staircase towards the guarded battlements and the bitter chill of the night. With slender fingers he fastened the buckle of his faded grey cape, his willowy form tensing in anticipation of the awaiting cold before emerging amongst the warriors who kept vigil.

The soldiers bowed low as he passed them, making in haste for the furthermost wall from which could be seen the vast stretch of land that encompassed his fortress; vigorously green meadows dulled by the pitch-dark night and broad oak trees creating fearsome shadows upon the ground. From afar, his keen grey eyes could decipher the vague outline of an approaching army cloaked in midnight but set alight by the flames of perilous evil. Elrond was aware of the piercing gaze of the warriors behind him and immediately straightened his posture; tilting his chin towards the rain as it tore at the skin of his face.

_ Have courage, Elrond. Have resilience. _

A whisper borne upon the harsh winds. A reminder. This was not the first time that he had withstood a besieging. 

As the sound of a thousand marching feet echoed against the trodden soils, Elrond resolved that it would not be his last.


End file.
